


you can't plan a coup and eat your dessert too

by scredgirl



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Couch Sex, F/F, Fluff and Smut, cancelled apple pie, dinner date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 08:21:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17721602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scredgirl/pseuds/scredgirl
Summary: An interrupted dinner date, a forgotten apple pie, and reconciliation.





	you can't plan a coup and eat your dessert too

"And not a word of this to anyone, understand?"

Philippa's hand closed around her wrist as she was reaching for the door, just firm enough to stop her mid-motion. Triss smiled at the sorceress's serious face. They often met to exchange information about the affairs of Redania and Temeria, keeping each other appraised of their respective monarchs' latest half-baked plans and devising ways to improve them. Lately, with the upcoming conclave on Thanedd and Philippa worried about Nilfgaard's intentions, their discussions had been getting more intense, and she had been taking greater pains than before to maintain the confidentiality of their exchanges.

"Of course, Philippa."

"Not even to Keira or Sabrina. And absolutely not to Yennefer. I'm trusting you with this, Triss."

"My lips are sealed." Triss made a gesture across her mouth to underline her statement. Philippa's face softened.

"They'll find out in due time. But until I'm positive about which course of action to pursue..." Philippa's fingers relaxed and ghosted down Triss's hand. "That needs to remain confidential."

"Nothing we talked about tonight will leave this place." Triss was surprised at the certitude in her own voice. Being in Philippa's confidence filled her with a resolve she rarely felt, and she wanted to prove worthy of that privilege.

"Good." Philippa stepped closer and kissed both of her cheeks. Triss could smell cinnamon and spikenard. She wondered if the smell would linger on her own clothes after she got home.

"I shall see you very soon, miss Merigold," she smiled.

Triss smiled too, a little too earnestly, she could tell.

 

\----

 

Combing her hair before sleep was something Triss Merigold did out of duty, almost. She sat in bed, halfway beneath the covers already, and impatiently ran the carved horn comb through her chestnut locks until she encountered no resistance. It was not that she disliked the ritual, merely that she only ever remembered to do it when she had already decided to go to bed and was eager to sleep instead of performing one more act of pampering.

So it was that Triss was hastily battling with a tangle when she felt her megascope stir in the next room. She debated ignoring it, then remembered her newfound sense of purpose and responsibility and, sighing, slid her legs out from underneath the warm blanket. She knew who might be calling her at such an hour, and it was someone she didn't mind losing a few minutes of sleep for.  
Triss adjusted her nightgown and pinched her cheeks before answering the call.

"Good evening, Triss," spoke Philippa Eilhart's smooth voice before her image appeared in the megascope radius. Her dark eyes quickly scanned Triss's figure. "I hope I'm not cruelly drawing you out of your bed. I wanted to speak to you before I start my work for the night."

Satisfied with the reaction she'd gotten for her flushed cheeks and artfully crinkled nightgown, Triss shook her head with a small smile.

"It's no bother at all."

 

\----

 

 _For pleasure, not business_ , Philippa had said. The words kept running in Triss's head on a loop as she fussed at the lace of her sleeves, made sure that her collar covered her scars, fixed the way her amulet was sitting on her chest. She pulled a face in the mirror as she checked her eye makeup for the sixth time. She might have wondered how many of their colleagues had Philippa invited over for dinner at Montecalvo in this way, or what that would imply for Triss's own political standing and influence - or indeed, if it would imply anything at all. But those concerns were very distant whispers in her mind, drowned out by the anticipation of the evening at hand. Triss rubbed at her teeth one last time to wipe off imaginary lipstick stains, and started the teleportation.

She arrived in the now familiar entrance hall of Montecalvo, at the top of the stairs. Triss had her own lavish residence in Maribor, but Philippa's palace made it look like a quaint little town house in comparison. The room was high painted ceilings, intricate marble floors, dark wood and leather chairs to sit on. Triss did not need to sit. She made her way to the door that lead to the West wing, where she knew Philippa had her living quarters. The door opened as she neared and there stood Lady Eilhart, teeth flashing from behind carmine painted lips in a genuine smile.

"Triss! You look nice. Please come in."

"You look stunning," Triss whispered as Philippa greeted her, their cheeks brushing. She knew the court sorceress's taste for flattering necklines and opulent jewels, but she had outdone herself tonight.

"Do I?" Philippa smirked, leading Triss to the dining room. "It's been some time since I've gotten to properly dress up. The past weeks have been so exhausting, it's been the furthest thing from my mind. Please, have a seat." She pulled out a chair for the younger sorceress, who mouthed a coy "thank you", before taking her own seat on the other side of the table.

"Now." Philippa smoothed her skirts and waved a hand to summon the first course from the kitchen. "Please, enjoy dinner. Feel free to comment on the cuisine, but keep in mind I have spent all day cooking, so don't be _too_ honest."

"I would not be so rude as to bring honesty to the table," Triss quipped as her entrée came to rest on the table in front of her. "My, this is beautiful, Phil. I knew of your illusions, but I did not suspect you were equally good with material food."

Taking her fork, Philippa picked up a slice of apple from the salad in front of her.

"You flatter me, but I wouldn't say _equally_ good. Illusions don't require going through the entire preparation, rather focusing on the end result. They tend to be more... Polished, than something created physically. Still, knowledge of the process is useful in producing a convincing impression." She ate her piece of apple. "Pretty good, regardless."

"Is that why you learned how to cook? So you could be better at creating illusions of food?" Cooking classes were not part of Aretuza's curriculum, and powerful sorceresses hardly ever took the time to teach themselves how to prepare food. They paid other people to do it for them.

"In part." Philippa was focused on her plate. "Have you ever learned how to cook, Triss?"

Triss was curious what the other part was, but thought it would be pointless to press it.

"What was the other reason?" she asked anyway.

Philippa's gaze shot up from her plate. She'd expected Triss to answer her own question and leave it at that. She put on a detached smile and rested her chin on one hand.

"It was a long time ago. I did not have a lot of means, but I always refused to eat poorly prepared food. With a little effort and know-how, it doesn't take a royal kitchen to make something tasty."

That was still redirection, but Triss was satisfied.

"I never learned how to cook," she admitted. "My parents cooked for me." She took a sip of her wine and noticed Philippa's undecipherable expression through the glass. "And after that, since Aretuza, it was never really a necessity." Triss absentmindedly toyed with the corner of her napkin. "If I'm desperately hungry without a cook on hand or an inn to go to, I'll cobble together a meal and cast an illusion on that, so it feels like I'm eating something fancier."

Philippa laughed at that.

"I suppose that's good in a pinch."

 

\----

 

Dessert had just been served when Philippa stirred abruptly.

"I'd deactivated the damn thing," she muttered.

Triss had felt it too: the shrill magic of a megascope somewhere in the castle. Philippa tried to wave the call away, but the frequency only made itself more insistent in response. Her annoyance plain on her face, the older sorceress regretfully set her spoon down and got up from her chair.

"I'm afraid it won't stop bothering us until I go and see what this is about. If you'd care to join me, I'm sure it will be something of interest to the both of us."

"It must be about the conclave," Triss surmised as she followed her host through a sitting room, a corridor, and a study before arriving in a small round room where the megascope was humming.

"It had better be something worth postponing apple pie for," Philippa moodily ground out as she allowed the projection to start.

A window quickly materialised, and in it Sabrina Glevissig's displeased face. Triss was careful to stand outside of the megascope's ring. She didn't particularly care to be seen.

"Finally!" Sabrina exclaimed, her dark hair coiling angrily about her shoulders as she shook her head and rolled her eyes at Philippa. "Why did you shut down your megascope? And what is that dress..."

"I'm having dinner, Sabrina. Do you have something important to tell me?"

"Francesca Findabair is part of the coup," Sabrina said briskly, all mockery gone from her voice. "Emhyr bought her allegiance by promising her dominion over the Valley of the Flowers. A Free Elven State, supposedly. A load of horseshit, if you ask me."

"Damn it," Philippa cursed under her breath.

All thoughts of apple pie were gone from her mind.

 

\----

 

Philippa leaned back heavily on the armrest of the sofa and groaned. It had been a grueling hour-long conversation with Sabrina about the very topic she'd been trying to avoid thinking about for the evening. Triss occupied an armchair next to her and was pouring them both a nightcap from a dark-coloured bottle. She'd heard the entire discussion, standing silently by as the two women drew up action plans and speculated about the other conspirators' intentions. She had not made her presence known to Sabrina, and she was fairly sure Philippa had also forgotten she was standing there, after a short while. That made her turn sulky despite herself, and she handed the glass of liquor to her host silently.

Philippa unfurrowed her brow and interrupted her fervent fidgeting with the beading on her dress to take the glass and gratify Triss with a appreciative look. The chestnut-haired sorceress was sipping at her drink without looking at her. Philippa extended a hand that she lightly rested on Triss's knee.

"Thank you for being so patient, dear." That drew Triss's gaze back to her. "I wish our dinner hadn't been interrupted."

"It's... par for the course, I suppose." Triss had tried to sound detached, but she could hear the bitterness that had seeped into her voice. Reasonably, she knew the interruption couldn't have been helped, and those news mattered to her too, of course - just not as much as they did to Philippa.

Philippa leaned forward, her hand snaking up to grasp Triss's.

"I'd planned it so meticulously, too," she lamented. "I should have known, this close to the conclave, I wouldn't be able to catch an evening of peace. But," she smiled and tugged on Triss's hand, coaxing her out of her chair, "let's set politics aside and enjoy what's left of it."

Unable to suppress a smile, Triss let herself be pulled down onto the sofa next to Philippa. The dark-haired sorceress maintained eye contact as she clinked their glasses together. She leaned back down on her armrest, took a sip of her drink and hummed appreciatively.

"How hard it is to be you," Triss taunted. "All those important people constantly pestering you."

"Someone has to do it," Philippa gestured theatrically.

"And here I thought I would be your sole focus tonight." Triss planted her eyes directly into Philippa's. She could feel her ears heating up, but she didn't look away. The other woman raised an eyebrow.

"Should I have told Sabrina to go stuff herself, maybe take Enid with her?"

"Maybe you should have." Triss set her empty glass down on the table with a light clink. "It's poor etiquette to leave a guest waiting like that."

Philippa sat up at last, set her glass on the table as well and leaned towards Triss.

"I'm sure you can forgive me."

Her hand came up to rest under Triss's chin, just as Triss's hand hooked around the back of her neck to draw her closer. Their lips met, hot and tasting of liquor. Triss's perfume was violet, a scent that Philippa had always found entirely too sweet for her taste, but that she wouldn't mind being completely submerged by right now. As if to answer that wish, Triss pulled her deeper into the kiss, humming against her mouth, hands pressing feverishly against her back.

Triss finally broke the kiss, cheeks flushed and gaze burning. Philippa's hand buried itself in her hair, her mouth moving down Triss's jaw as she let out a contented sigh. Philippa's movements were slow and deliberate, while Triss's frantic hands grasped at her waist, her neck, her chest. Philippa pulled away, plucked Triss's hands from her body one after the other, and kissed her again, excruciatingly slow. With her hands held gently but firmly in place, Triss's legs started bouncing to release the pent-up tension. Philippa maintained the purposefully, relentlessly slow pace until Triss's legs settled once again. As soon as she let go of her hands, they flew back up to interlock behind her neck, and after some fidgeting, settled there nicely. Philippa's lips curled into a satisfied smile against Triss's mouth.

Her hand reached down to find the hem of Triss's skirts. The voluminous petticoat resisted being bunched up, but Triss's pleading murmurs spurred her along, and soon her hand had worked its way up between smooth warm thighs. Triss's chest was heaving. Her bodice restricted her breathing, her head was swimming and all she wanted was more, more of this, Philippa's fingers against her skin, slow at first, too slow, then faster, finding a rhythm that drew louder and louder gasps and moans out of her.

 

\----

 

They lay on the sofa, limbs entangled, skirts all wrinkled, Triss's underwear still hanging around one foot. Philippa's hair was even messier than usual, clinging to her forehead, her red lipstick smeared over both of their faces, and a smug smile on her lips.

"Not mad at me anymore, are you?" she purred as she wiped a red smudge off Triss's jawline with her thumb.

Triss, her breathing having slowly returned to normal, turned her head and narrowed her eyes at her.

"No. But I might be again if I don't get to bathe very soon."

"So impatient." Philippa touched a finger to the tip of Triss's nose, which she wrinkled in protestation. "You really ought to learn how to pace yourself, miss Merigold."

"And you ought to learn how to be more diligent towards your guests, lady Eilhart."

"You wound me. I was as diligent as I ever am just now." She leaned down and planted a kiss on Triss's lips. "But to be frank, I could use a bath myself."


End file.
